


Something Special

by forestdivinity (ForestDivinity)



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - BDSM, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, BDSM, Collars, Dom Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Dom/sub, F/F, Flogging, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has a Big Dick, Happy Ending, Heavy BDSM, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Oral Sex, Other, Painplay, Risk Aware Consensual Kink, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Safe Sane and Consensual, Sex Club, Spanking, TAGS WILL BE ADDED AS STORY IS UPDATED
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 10:41:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22848835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForestDivinity/pseuds/forestdivinity
Summary: Jaskier has been floating in and out of not-relationships for the last six months, struggling to find someone willing to sit down and work him out. Sometimes, he doesn't know what he's doing wrong. No matter what Dom he approaches, he always ends up leaving the Rosemary and Thyme with an empty pit in his stomach.Even bloody Yennefer is beginning to feel sorry for him and he's on the verge of giving up when he ends up, by some string of fate, in the lap of the best Dom in the club - and the most unavailable - Geralt Rivia, who hasn't taken a sub in almost two years. From the start there is something special between them, they just have to figure out how to keep it.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion/Original Male Character(s), Tissaia de Vries/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Triss Merigold/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 11
Kudos: 251





	Something Special

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy the first chapter! This is something sappy but soon we'll be travelling baaack in time to see how they got here in the first place, hope you're all excited! Kudos and comments keep me going so any feedback would be lovely.
> 
> Follow me @ [ashayathyla](ashayathyla.tumblr.com) if you want to give me ideas *waggles eyebrows* or hear more about my various aus!

Jaskier wears Geralt’s collar like it’s a badge of honour, and when Geralt questions it he tells him it’s because it is one. The day collar is nothing overtly fancy. A thin golden band that clings to his neck, and a wolf pendant that’s a perfect replica of Geralt’s own. Sure it’s a little decorative, a little feminine, but it doesn’t look like a collar. Just a normal choker-style necklace. If he’s ever asked about it, he tells them that his husband gave it to him and they smile at the thought. Geralt is such a big, burly, bear of a man that Jaskier understands why they giggle, the thought of Geralt giving out delicate pieces of jewellery as a present is, admittedly amusing. But they don’t know what it really is, what it really means. They don’t know that Geralt sat down and made the band himself, working for months so that it would sit just right on his throat, forever marking him as belonging to Geralt, even when they’re not playing.

* * *

Jaskier remembers the day Geralt had given it to him. He’d had a rather generic set of collars up until that point, had been Geralt’s for almost a year - and hadn’t that been a surprise, Jaskier hadn’t expected it to last so long but it  _ had _ and it had been amazing, and he’s getting off track but he can’t help it. He’d been Geralt’s for almost a year and had a plain leather collar for playing, and a generic silver chain when he was out and it had been fine, if only because he’d never thought of having anything else. After all, he’d never been with someone long enough to have permanent collars before Geralt. Once a week sessions, the occasional odd weekend with a Dom, but more often than not even his ‘good’ relationships had fizzled out before they’d even gotten to the stage of collaring. Sure he’d had one or two before but things would inevitably crash and burn and so he was happy to have any sort of collar at that point, generic or not.

Then Geralt had sat him down with serious eyes and a line set in his mouth and Jaskier had thought,  _ oh, this is it, we’re breaking up _ . He’d been broken up with plenty of times, so even though they’d been together almost a year and Jaskier had been fine, happy even, it hadn’t felt unexpected.  _ At least _ , he’d told himself,  _ Geralt’s a gentleman, he’ll let me down easy, let me get my stuff, won’t be cruel about it _ , and it had almost been enough to settle the heavy sinking in his stomach. Something must have shown in his face though, because Geralt had huffed in that funny way of his and dragged Jaskier into his arms like he was a mind reader (he wasn’t, but he might have been a Jaskier-reader, because he always seemed to know). Those golden eyes had gone wide as he’d looked at Jaskier and he’d been quick to react.

“Oh no, Buttercup, I’m not going anywhere. Don’t you think like that.” He’d said and his voice had been that slow, molasses crawl he always used during aftercare, or when Jaskier was upset. It was something that Jaskier had begun to instinctively respond to, low and calm and gentle. 

“I’m not leaving.” Geralt had promised as Jaskier had trembled against his chest and nodded without really believing him. That was stupif really, because Geralt rarely lied. Well, rarely lied properly anyway, about things that were important. He’d lie about when Jaskier got to cum for example, or what might happen if he didn’t eat his greens, but he never lied about the important things because he was good like that. So it was only when Geralt carefully rearranged him on his lap that he actually noticed the hand crafted box on the table. It had been through a mess of tears, and where had they come from anyway, he’d been trying to stay composed and crying was not composed.

  
“Whassat?” He’d mumbled, voice thick. Geralt had been fussing by that point, wiping Jaskier’s tears away with his thumb, stroking down his back.

“It’s your surprise. Was your surprise. I just, I mean, I was going to give it to you. I am going to. I didn’t mean to make you cry.” The stuttering and stumbling over his words is enough to make Jaskier pause and he finds himself laughing through the tears. It has been a while since Geralt had lost his words like that. Well, at least when he was talking to Jaskier. In front of most people he ‘hmm’d’ and huffed his way through conversations to avoid people knowing that he was an awkward, soft hearted, grump of a man, which was fine because Jaskier spoke enough for two people on a normal day and three on a bad one. So it was fine, because Geralt had learnt to speak to Jaskier at least and it made him feel special. Even so, seeing Geralt stumbling again was a little adorable and had Jaskier been less full of snot and tears at that point he would have told Geralt that.

* * *

Geralt had a  _ thing _ about being called cute. He got all grumbly and scowled and told Jaskier he was being an idiot, as if Jaskier was blind or something. Jaskier was decidedly not blind and Geralt, the big lump, was adorable. Hot, sexy, handsome, sure. Geralt was definitely all that too, and he accepted those compliments with a smirk usually, but he was cute too, and needed to be told so more often.

But he was full of snot and tears and still trying to chase away the phantom ache of rejection in his chest, so he didn’t mention it.

* * *

“Surprise?” Is what he’d mumbled instead. Geralt liked to get him a lot of surprises, but he usually presented them with a smirk, or with Jaskier on his knees, or at least with the deep growl that Jaskier liked to call his  _ Dom-voice _ in his head. 

“Yeah baby, a surprise. Just for you.” Geralt was still talking very soft and slow and Jaskier sniffed again. His body felt heavy and cold and very far away. It was similar to a bad drop, somehow made worse by the fact that he hadn’t even experienced the endorphins that always came with a good scene. It was kinda shit, if he was honest.

The prospect of a surprise was intriguing though. Enough that he could feel some of the fog lifting from his addled brain and he carefully lifted his head to stare at it properly. Geralt kissed his temple in response and Jaskier relaxed minutely against him.

“That’s it, Buttercup.” Geralt told him as he gathered himself. “Just breathe slowly. Then we can open your present. Once you feel better.”

He seemed to have recovered from his stuttering, which some distant part of him noted was a shame, because Geralt was cute when he stuttered. But it was okay because he was stroking his hands gently down Jaskier’s sides in a way that made him shiver and sigh, nodding slowly at Geralt. 

“There we go baby, you’re doing so well.” Geralt’s voice was ever so quiet next to his ear, Jaskier cradled against him. Slowly, Jaskier found himself blinking at the box.  _ What’s inside _ , he couldn’t help but wonder.  _ What made Geralt nervous and serious and sweet?  _ He stared at it.  _ Geralt’s always sweet,  _ another part of his brain huffed.  _ No, sir is always sweet. Geralt is an arse until he’s had his coffee _ , a third part traitorously responded. It was accurate enough that a soft, huffy laugh left him and Geralt smiled, squeezing Jaskier softly. 

“What’s got you giggling, Buttercup?” He asked, but Jaskier just shook his head and smiled.  _ Sir _ , and  _ Geralt _ , were the same person, it was silly to try and separate them in his head. 

“Nothin’.” His voice came out heavy and slurred and he coughed in order to clear some of the thickness that had gathered in his throat. Then he pointed at the box and made a few childish  _ gimme _ , gestures. 

“I wanna open this stupid box so we can both relax finally.” Jaskier said, glad his voice was finally steady again and Geralt raised an eyebrow at his tone but handed it over without complaint. Once it was in his lap, Jaskier had found himself nervous again. Delicate fingers ran over the cool wood, tracing the little patterns that had been etched into it. It was pretty, sturdy, and well made. The last two were things he expected from Geralt. The first not so much.

“Open it, Jaskier.” Geralt’s voice was soft and encouraging. 

And so he had.

* * *

Inside, the box was lined with a blue velvet that matched the sky soft colour of Jaskier’s own eyes. There were small stars stitched into it, a deep golden hue that matched Geralt perfectly. Jaskier felt his mouth go dry, tongue lying heavy in the middle of his mouth as he stared into the box. 

Settled in the middle of the brushed velvet was the day collar. It was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, gleaming under the harsh light of their living room. Jaskier couldn’t even remember when it had become  _ their _ living room, instead of Geralt’s, it just was. He took a shaky gasp and found himself unable to speak, tracing his finger over the delicate band, the intricate detailing in the wolf’s head. Somewhere above him and very far away, Geralt cleared his throat. Jaskier pushed the sound away.

For the second time in less than half an hour (maybe longer, time had gotten away from him) he felt his eyes welling up with tears, a sob catching in the soft palate at the back of his throat. Geralt made a strangled sound and squeezed him again, almost knocking the box onto the floor.

“Jaskier, Buttercup, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have sprung this on you, I just thought, it’s almost our anniversary and I wanted to-“

Jaskier cut him off with a frantic shake of his head and wriggled in Geralt’s lap until he was kneeling, straddling his lover’s thick thighs, the box getting squashed between them, digging into his stomach.

“I love it! Oh, Geralt… Sir, Geralt, Sir, I love it!” The tension in Geralt’s shoulders relaxed visibly and he came to hold Jaskier’s face in both of his gloriously strong hands and Jaskier found himself being pulled into a messy, open mouthed kiss.

“Oh thank god. You had terrified for a minute there, when you started crying again.”

“What did you expect!?” Jaskier all but shrieked, excitement and eagerness rolling through him as he kissed Geralt again. “You gave me a collar!”

“You already had a collar.” Geralt pointed to the silver chain on his neck and gave it a very gentle tug in response, making Jaskier snort.

“Not one like this! Not one that’s so… so special. So you. So  _ us _ .” The amused look on Geralt’s face softened and he leant down to kiss Jaskier again. It was slow, a little awkward from the position, the box digging into them from where it was nestled between their bodies, but perfect. Something hot and languid and full of love. Geralt slid his hand down until it was resting on the back of Jaskier’s neck, thumb rubbing over the little clasp on the back of his collar. 

Unlike some day collars, it had no padlock or key needed to open it. Geralt trusted him, and Jaskier wouldn’t take it off without good reason. Just the weight of it around his neck had always been enough to satisfy that part of him that wanted to be visibly marked _ ,  _ claimed _ , owned _ , by Geralt. Now though, as they broke the kiss, Geralt was carefully unfastening it. Jaskier whined and Geralt gave him a pointed look but he couldn’t stop the sound. He got a light swat on the hip in response. 

“Hush and be patient, Buttercup. Be my good boy.” Jaskier wasn’t always a  _ good boy _ , sometimes he needed to be naughty and put in his place, but at that moment all he wanted to do was be perfectly good. Prove he really deserved what Geralt was giving him. He went silent and rested back on his heels, staring up at Geralt with adoration and love. So, so much love. Geralt traced his thumbs down the elegant column of his neck and his mouth soon followed the path he’d made.

“Gods Jaskier… I’m going to put my collar on you.  _ My collar _ , not some generic one from a store or fucking, Etsy shop.  _ Mine _ . And then you’ll always have me against your skin. Gonna look so pretty Buttercup, all in gold, my wolf on your throat.” His voice is dipping low, going deep and growly as he speaks. It sends a needy shiver through him but he wants to be  _ good _ , so he stays still and quiet and merely gives Geralt hungry eyes. 

Geralt moves so the box is nestled in their laps. His hands, big and calloused, gently lift the collar from its velvet bed. Jaskier is shivering with anticipation and he can’t help it, is glad when Geralt doesn’t tell him off for the involuntary quaking. It helps that Geralt looks just as wound with excitement as he does. Reminds Jaskier he’s not the only one that wants this. And he wants it so bad, more than anything he’s ever wanted before in his life. Geralt smiles, ever so sweet at him, and he lifts the collar up towards Jaskier carefully. It is cool as it rests against his skin, makes him shiver as it's clasped around his throat, and adjusted a few times to fit right, and then it’s on. 

_ It’s on _ .

* * *

Tears well up in his eyes again and Geralt only hums this time, doesn’t make a move until they’re rolling down his cheeks again. Jaskier is silent and still. A thumb comes up and wipes one of the fat droplets away and Jaskier, knowing he was permission now, throws himself forward to hug Geralt tight. He almost knocks the couch over in his enthusiasm. 

Geralt catches him and kisses him hard enough to bruise. 

“Fuck baby, you look so good.” He hisses and Jaskier can only whine and grin. He feels good. Proud and powerful and  _ owned _ . Geralt wants him, wants to keep him, wants to wrap a collar around Jaskier’s throat and never let him go. It is the best feeling in the world. It makes his stomach throb as if butterflies are whirling around and around, doing back flips and somersaults inside of him. It’s indescribable. A moment of pure joy and relief. 

“Thank you sir, thank you! I love it! I love it so much.” He gasps out and thinks  _ I love you, I love you, I love you _ , until all the words are running together. Geralt is giving him a rarely seen grin. It beams from his face and is almost uncomfortable to look at, but only because Jaskier sees him like that so rarely. It is like looking into the sun. It doesn’t last for long, because he has to squeeze his eyes shut and pepper kisses over Geralt’s face before his own eyes begin to ache again. Geralt squeezes his hips, holds him close enough that Jaskier thinks they might be about to melt into one blobby mess.

He belongs to Geralt. He  _ belongs.  _ Jaskier could weep with the thought. Sometimes he does, touching the collar when Geralt is away from home for whatever (usually stupid) reason, knowing that it is a sure sign Geralt will always come back to him. Jaskier is floating from the moment Geralt puts the collar around his neck, feeling like he’s something special, something to be  _ treasured _ , and he never wants to lose this feeling that he gets when Geralt does something especially sappy. He knows, so long as he has Geralt’s collar ( _ his collar _ ) around his neck he is loved, no matter what happens in the future, despite everything they’ve been through, Geralt wants him. Wants Jaskier as his own, to keep and to love, and Jaskier is more than happy to give himself over, knowing he’s not the only one giving away his heart. 

So yes, the collar is something special. Something to be treasured. A mark of excellence, a badge of honour, something that he wears and displays like a peacock strutting around its feathers. Geralt doesn’t always understand the way Jaskier views it but it doesn’t matter, they both adore seeing it around the pale column of Jaskier’s throat and that’s good enough for him. 

_ Something special _ , he thinks, as he kisses Geralt again.  _ That’s what this is, something very special. _


End file.
